


Reckless Idiot

by AdrenalineRevolver



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Protectiveness, Spot is a Good Boy But He Is Feral
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:55:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22926787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdrenalineRevolver/pseuds/AdrenalineRevolver
Summary: Race is a reckless idiot and gets beat up.A gift for violentbirds on tumblr
Relationships: Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71





	Reckless Idiot

Racetrack was honestly a little surprised to see Spot in Manhattan unannounced. Not that he was complaining dying under some asshole’s boot heel wasn’t exactly on his list of plans for today. 

“What’s this?” Spot’s voice was clipped, sharp like a knife to the ribs. Race figured that every newsie in the city knew that voice and hung on it’s tone. 

The boys he’d made the mistake of challenging split as if a gun had been fired. One even tripped over his own shoes as he ran. It was kind of funny despite the fact that Racetrack had nearly been stomped into the pavement moments before. 

Before Racetrack could pick himself up the shorter newsie lifted him to his feet and wrapped an arm over his shoulder. It didn’t get him all the way up but it helped.

“I can still sell today. I ain’t busted up that bad.” He winced when he tried to put pressure on his foot. Yeah, that ankle was twisted, that would suck for a few days. Thankfully it didn’t seem like it was broken. Broken bones were always difficult to handle. 

“Shut up, you can’t stand on your own.” Spot stared straight ahead as he made his way towards the Manhattan lodging house. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were wild. Race had only seen him like this before he sank his teeth into someone with the intent to leave marks that would never fade. 

“What are ya even doin’ here?” Race asked. “Don’t ya usually have a whole thing if ya cross the bridge? Like guys announce a day in advance ‘n shit.”

“You didn’t show up to Sheepshead.” He was usually not the most talkative of kids but this was a special kind of short. It’s like he was holding his tongue.

Racetrack desperately wanted to break the silence but couldn’t think of anything to say. Spot looked downright murderous. 

When they reached the lodging house Spot beat on the door until Jack opened it. “Put him to bed. Don’t listen to him.” It was an order. 

And that was it. Spot all but shoved him into Jack’s arms and headed off the way he came. 

It’s not that Race would have dreamed of asking Spot to stay but he kind of thought he might. Or at least that he would help him get to bed rather than practically running away. Something. 

Maybe Spot didn’t want to be seen with him. It would probably hurt his reputation to be seen with a guy who can’t ever seem to win the fights he picks. The idea made his chest clench in strange ways and his stomach swim. 

Race doesn’t really hear whatever it is that Jack’s saying as he’s being lead to his bunk. It’s probably something about being more careful. That he doesn’t need to prove himself to anybody. The same general spiel he gave to any of the guys when they lost a fight. It usually helped but Race couldn’t even force himself to listen.

Sleep didn’t come easily despite how tired he felt. Maybe he shouldn’t sell at Sheepshead as often if he was just going to embarrass Spot. He didn’t know where else he would go but he didn’t want to be a bother. It would also be nice to not feel the painful side effects of Spot’s position again. 

He’s not sure when he fell asleep but it wasn’t a restful one. He couldn’t seem to push the feeling of being left behind from his mind. Not even in his dreams. 

He dreamed about being a horse at the racetrack. Normally he loved it when he dreamed about something like that. It was freeing. However this time Spot was in the audience and he was betting on every horse but Race. 

Racetrack spends the next day resting, Jack’s orders. No sign of Spot. Or even any of his guys. He tries his best to hold out hope but it’s fading even as he clings to it. Jack tries his best to cheer his newsie up but nothing quite works. 

When Race goes back to selling there’s still no sign of Spot. Granted he’s selling near the lodging house rather than at Sheepshead but he had told himself that there was no way Spot wouldn’t check on him today. But there was no Spot. 

There was no Hotshot. There was none of the Brooklyn guys. Maybe they just didn’t care. Spot was protective of his guys and maybe Race just wasn’t one of them. 

He figures that he only got maybe two hours of sleep that night. Most of it was spent tossing and turning, trying not to wake the others as he fought for maybe another moment of rest.

That morning before the alarm bell went off Spot Conlon was standing in the bunkroom. His lip was busted, his knuckles were bloody, and he looked exhausted. Anything close to being upset with him is gone as if Race had never felt it. 

“What happened? You okay?” Racetrack whispered as he sat up.

Spot narrowed his eyes as if Racetrack was the dumbest thing he’d ever seen. “I’m fine.” He said as he sat on the edge of Racetrack’s bed. “It’s the others you outta worry about. They won’t be bothering you anymore.”

Racetrack’s lips fell open as it hit him. Spot stormed off not because he was embarrassed, but because he wanted vengeance. Spot Conlon spent two days tracking down the guys that hurt him and carved a warning not to do it again into their very bones. “I-uh. I-Thank you.” 

He whipped his head around, making sure the other boys were still asleep. No doubt genuine thanks was too flustering for him not to react with some sort of fake threat. “If you ever pull that stupid shit again I’ll smother you. Don’t pick fights ya can’t win.”

“I dunno,” Racetrack grinned as fury crossed Spot’s face. “seems like if I do you’ll save me.”

Spot went a strange color of red and tried to snatch the pillow from behind Race’s head. Racetrack stopped him by wrapping an arm around his waist. Spot’s heart seemed to be going a mile a minute as Race felt it against his chest. Maybe it was because nobody had the guts to hug him?

“Your- fuck!” Racetrack snorted in laughter despite the pain as Spot bit down on his shoulder. Maybe Jack was right when he compared Spot to a feral creature you’d pull out of the dumpster, but Race couldn’t force himself to mind. 

When Spot dislodged his teeth from Race’s shoulder he leaned away, face still pink. “You commin’ down to Sheepshead today? I heard you ain’t been by in a while.”

“Course.” Race carefully let him go and watched as Spot stood and brushed himself off. 

“Good. Might stop by to make sure you haven’t done somethin’ dumb.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way to the window.

“Wait, did you climb in?” Racetrack watched as Spot scrambled out of the window and hopped onto the fire escape.

“Doors are boring.” He said simply before sliding down the ladder. 

Racetrack shook his head with a grin knowing that Spot will probably be waiting for him at Sheepshead the moment it opens.


End file.
